The Perfect Role Model?
by Caorann fridh Bronach
Summary: Mokuba has decided he has to work extra hard to make things up to his brother for suffering under Gozaburo. Desperate for approval, Mokuba tries to become a replica of Seto Kaiba.
1. Part 1

The Perfect Role Model?

There was a problem in the Kaiba mansion. The problem, however, was not immediately evident. Only through the sighs and changings of position of one boy did the problem reveal itself. Finally, Mokuba sat up and glared vehemently at his school bag.

"I _hate_ math. Maybe Seto can help me…" Mokuba threw his legs over the edge of his bed and padded down the hall.

A few goons in black silently watched him pass. Otherwise, all was still and quiet. Until he got to his brother's work room, that was.

A constant tapping shot out into the air like individual bullets aimed precisely at a target. Knowing Seto, they would all hit in the bull's-eye. Carefully, Mokuba poked the door open in order to fit his head through. As quiet as he was, however, his brother did not bother to turn; instead, only asking, "What's the matter, Mokuba?"

Well, he was not anxious to answer with how poorly he was doing in math. After all, Seto excelled in it and taught himself now since the school did not have as highly qualified teachers as was needed for him.

So, Mokuba went broader, which was still true. "I'm sick of school."

The typing stopped.

'Well, I got his attention. That might be a good thing. But it could be bad…' Mokuba thought to himself worriedly, biting his lower lip. His fears were confirmed when his brother swiveled on his chair to give his little brother his full attention. That rarely boded for something good.

"You need an education, Mokuba. You can't make it in this world without one."

Greatly daring, Mokuba said, "Yes, I can. You do…you always miss school…" Right away, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Seto frowned. "I already _have_ an education. I was taught years ahead of those slackers, so if I miss a few days now and then for work, it does not matter. Besides, you have to get through the basic material still. It is not like you had it all early when I did from Gozaburo."

Mokuba focused on the ground where he was scuffing a shoe pretending his eyes were not about to water.

'What right do I have to think I am finished after all my brother has done? He slaved for Gozaburo…was _tortured_. If I want to be his brother, I should have to go through the same ordeal. I don't want to bring my brother down because I was not educated enough.' He knew his brother was not blaming him for anything, but Mokuba still could not help but feel pressured to succeed and do well. His brother was a genius, after all, so why wasn't he?

He continued thinking, 'So, I know why everyone wanted Seto. I always have. I just pretended I didn't care. Most of the time, I don't. But now, it seems he is disappointed in me. I have to do well for him, even if it kills me.'

In a small voice, still not looking up, Mokuba said, "Sorry, Seto. I didn't mean to bother you…" Swiftly, Mokuba crept back down the hallway to his room.

&&&

There was a problem in the Kaiba mansion, though it was not immediately evident. Through a thick silence and lack of movement, the problem portrayed itself. Eventually, Kaiba gave up staring at his screen, saved his work, and went out.

His brother's room was closed, but he tapped once and went in. Inside, he found Mokuba surrounded by books and papers. Science, English, history, French, and math were all in easy reach, the math open. On a piece of paper filled with cross-outs and pencil erased three times, Mokuba was scrawling out what he hoped was the right work. He was so involved he did not hear his older brother enter.

"Is everything all right, Mokuba?" Seto asked cautiously, not wanting to startle him.

The boy was still startled. "Hmm!" He whirled around, scattering erasers and pencils to the floor. "Oh, I am just doing my homework." He turned back to his work, opening the text to try to puzzle out the instructions and lesson once again.

'Seto likes people who can solve their own problems. I won't ask him for help. Maybe then he'll be proud of me. Besides, I owe it to him to not be a bother. I have already been one for years. He stayed with me when no one wanted me. He shouldn't have. He could have been with a family that would see his skills as talent and helped him along to the best of their ability. Instead, Gozaburo got him and used his ability, all right, but in a way that did not let any more than was necessary out. I am always holding him back. Not this time.'

Uncertain, thinking his brother was lying to him, Seto did not know what to do. In the end, he decided Mokuba would talk when he was ready. "All right then. Good night." He closed the door once more, going back to work.

Placing his head in his arms, Mokuba held back the same tears that had threatened him before. "I will be strong, Seto. I will be just like you. No matter what, I won't ask you for help." Determinedly, trying to forget the quail of his heart, Mokuba began rereading the chapter of math. And he still had an English paper to write.

&&&

So it continued. Mokuba hid the truth from his brother, and Seto did not think Mokuba wanted to talk to him about it. Never asking the problem, the CEO sensed nothing odd in the mansion, continuing to work as he normally did. But, to Mokuba, that just showed how much more _he_ had to work.

'Seto sees work as the most important thing. I have to keep working or he'll never appreciate me.'

Last night, he had only gotten four hours of sleep, but he tried to hide how tired he was. What hurt was how easily he hid it from his brother.

"I'm going to school early to study with a teacher," he said, watching Seto's reaction through bleary eyes.

Eyebrows going up, Seto answered, "Well, I'm glad you know how to take responsibility for your own actions. Your teacher is there as a vassal of information, so use him." This comment hid, however, the slight sinking within him that he would not admit to himself—that his brother was asking a teacher before him.

Grabbing his bag and blinking to stay awake, Mokuba headed out the door, calling back a faint goodbye. At least this way the boy would not bother his brother, whose work was far more important than Mokuba's schoolwork that should have been simple for him.

&&&

It was the fifth class of the day, but the seventh time a teacher was awakening him. His brother got less sleep than this every night! Mokuba should have been able to handle it!

"Mokuba, why don't you come talk to me?" His science teacher was looking at him worriedly.

With a start, the boy glanced around the room, noticing he was the only one left.

"N-no," he stammered, worried he was in trouble. If so, Seto would hear about this for sure, and Mokuba did not want that. "I have to go to lunch."

With a sigh, his teacher watched him leave as she shook her head. Maybe she should call Mokuba's brother. But then, it was just once. If it continued, Seto Kaiba would be getting a call no matter what.

&&&

Feet dragging, Mokuba trudged back home after school, hoping he had brought all his homework. Slowly, his befuddled, foggy mind recalled that he had taken every single book in his locker, so he must have it all covered. Now, he could study every subject and if lucky, get ahead in one of them.

Being tired beyond belief, Mokuba doubted that last hope. He would be satisfied if he finished what was due for tomorrow.

'No!' he told himself sharply. 'I have to do more than that to make my brother proud of me! Seto always does his homework early and reads entire textbooks. There is no reason I should not do the same. There is no reason I _can't_ do the same. I had to get some intelligence, right?'

Immediately upon entering the house, Mokuba bypassed the kitchen where he usually went for a small snack and went upstairs. His door closed softly with a thud.

Seto, waiting for his brother in the kitchen, poked his head out. There were Mokuba's shoes at the doorway. But the boy had decided not to eat the carrots waiting for him on the table.

Softly, Kaiba went up the stairs, knocking on his brother's door.

"Everything all right, Mokuba? Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Mokuba's head was already immersed in a textbook. His brother's small knock had awakened him from falling into another nap. Not turning, he focused on the book's words that seemed to be swimming and crawling in loops across the pages.

"No, Seto. I'll just do my work."

Seto closed the door again, wondering at the change in his brother. Then, deciding having a boy who understood the importance of homework in the house was not a bad thing. Maybe Mokuba was really becoming mature.

Going to his own workroom, Kaiba thought no more on the matter as his fingers flew across the keys with ease.

&&&

All right. It had been four hours, and Mokuba had not emerged from his room once. Dinner was cooking and the delectable smells blew upstairs. Kaiba stretched, hit the 'save' button, and went to check on his little brother. A change was good as changes went, but it was odd that such a sudden one had overtaken his brother.

This time, Seto did not knock. Instead, he slowly opened the door and looked within. There was Mokuba, head bent over a book, seeming very interested in whatever he was reading. Deciding that if this change was surprising to him then it must be as difficult for Mokuba to maintain, Seto left. When his brother was through with seeing school as everything, he would stop studying so hard.

In fifteen minutes, a goon knocked on Mokuba's door, summoning him to dinner.

With a start, the boy jerked awake and saw with dismay that he had not gotten any farther in the book than he had when his brother first checked in on him. Groaning with a sinking heart, Mokuba called out:

"I'll just eat in my room! Bring me a plate."

The goon left to do as he wished.

Mokuba nodded with approval as he thought how much Seto would be proud of him for putting work before eating and playing.

&&&

That night, Kaiba ate alone. It was not much fun, and the food tasted colder and nastier than it usually did. But he said nothing. Mokuba would decide what was best for himself. At least the boy was still eating. Or rather, he was pretending to. As of then, Seto had yet to see the empty plate come downstairs.

&&&

'All right. Now that I caught up on my sleep, though it was a nuisance, I can work the rest of the night!' He looked over at his violin that he was supposed to practice. Yet, to him, practice was fun. Therefore, it was not work and could not be condoned. Mokuba had no time for fun.

He had finally finished the math problems from yesterday, but now he had a whole new set for tonight. Reading the text was hard work, yet it did help clear things up for him. Slowly, it was beginning to make sense.

As for his other subjects, he had finished everything due tomorrow. Now, he just had to study everything they had done since the beginning of the year. Hence, the reason for bringing home his entire locker.

First, though, he had to get through math. Asking his teacher about it had made it clearer while he was there. Now, on his own again, everything was as confusing as before. But math was something he _had_ to do well at. Seto thought it was so easy, but for Mokuba, it was far easier to write a poem or draw a picture. Yet all that and playing his violin was off-limits. What good would such skills do for him later? To help run Kaiba Corporation, Mokuba had to know math, computers, and how to write proposals. Yet, all of that was seldom covered in a twelve-year-old's curriculum. So, if he ever had any extra time, that was what he would have to do: begin to study business.

'I know you'll be pleased with what I'm doing, Seto. I'll be just like you.'

&&&

At three in the morning, Mokuba finally gave in to the temptation to go back to sleep. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his mind ceased thinking and sleep overtook him as fast as a galloping horse.

Just two hours later, his alarm went off.

"I set the alarm?" he asked groggily. "Surely there's no reason to get up so early…" Then, with a start, he leaped out of bed. He had to do more work this morning.

First, he reviewed everything he had been studying yesterday, starting with math. Unfortunately, that was also where he ended. It seemed all he had learned had drained out his ears while he was sleeping, leaving him with nothing substantial at all.

At six-thirty, Seto called for Mokuba to come get breakfast. In dismay bordering panic, Mokuba stared at all he had promised he would do this morning. The multiple books leered back at him.

A small tap sounded at the door. "Mokuba, did you hear me? Come eat breakfast."

Mokuba's eyes were as wide as the oranges downstairs waiting for him. "I can't, Seto! I have to do some stuff first. I'll be down soon."

His brother remained firmly in the doorway. "Mokuba, breakfast is too important to skip. You can't have that much to do. Come down right now and eat."

The situation was too much for the boy. He wanted to cry from sheer stress. His brother was yelling at him to stop working, but work was all that was important to Seto! Mokuba bowed his head and slid by his brother. He would never please Seto.

"I'm sorry, Seto," he muttered, going downstairs.

Kaiba did not understand, so he said nothing.

Breakfast was eaten in silence though Mokuba was trying to eat as quickly as possible. At around seven-fifteen, they would leave for school. So, he had some time if he did not choke from gulping too much.

Uneasily, he looked at his brother when he was finished. Seto, sensing his anxiousness, sighed and told him he was free to do whatever he wanted. Mokuba practically dashed up the stairs.

There was so much to remember in so little time! What was worse was seeing something written in his assignment notebook. Quiz today. Yes, he had been studying for all sorts of quizzes. Then, as Mokuba tried to remember the material, his brain was bogged down with all sorts of other information from the beginning of the chapters instead of what was strictly on the test today. In great panic, he raced through his notes, hoping this was not a class he had fallen asleep in. Then, when his brother called for Mokuba to come down to leave for school, the boy jammed everything into his bag and raced down.

Breathlessly, he opened the notebook in the limousine, missing his brother's nearly-hidden disappointed look. So, there was to be no conversation this morning in the car. Mokuba was dropped off first and was in such a rush he forgot to tell his older brother goodbye. Shaking his head, Seto watched him going into the building with a heavy load of books on his back.

'I don't know what has gotten into my brother, but it can't last much longer.'

&&&

This time, Mokuba managed to stay awake all during class. But his memory was hardly improved. The quiz had been graded and handed back right away. From one of his favorite classes, science, he had gotten a 'D.'

Mokuba had never gotten such a low grade before. It seemed unfair to him that when he was working to grow smarter he began to do worse in class. There must be some mistake.

His science teacher told him to stay after the other kids left for lunch. Heart pounding, he slowly walked the plank up to her desk.

"Yes, Ms. Dojinschi?" The boy was practically holding his breath.

His teacher looked into his tired, worried eyes. "Mokuba, you fell asleep in my class yesterday; you _never_ fall asleep in my class. And now, you have gotten the lowest grade yet. What is going on?"

"Nothing, ma'am. I'll do better next time, I know I will. It was just an accident. I didn't get all the notes when I fell asleep. But it will never happen again."

She sighed, letting him go after one last line, "Fine, but I hope you're right."

&&&

'What do I do? I can't tell Seto about this grade! He'd be so disappointed. But, is my teacher going to tell him? She didn't say so…' Mokuba bit his lip as he went outside to get picked up.

His worst fears seemed acknowledged when his brother was in the limousine. Most often, Seto was home before he was. Their schools did not start at the same time. Usually, Mokuba went early to school in order to practice orchestra. These last two mornings, however, had only been extra study time for him.

"Hello, Seto," he said cautiously. There was no way the boy could tell his brother about the grades if Kaiba did not bring them up himself.

"How was your day?"

Was this a trick? Mokuba debated what to say. Finally, he answered, "Just fine. How was yours?"

Kaiba did not look pleased. He was probably disappointed in Mokuba. He must know the truth. The boy still could say nothing about it.

"Boring. How about a game of chess this evening?"

Mokuba gulped, turning away. "I have a lot to do, Seto…" He could hardly bear to himself refuse his brother a game. Usually, it was the other way around.

Seto leaned back and fell silent, sighing. Somehow, Mokuba had disappointed him again.

&&&

Later, up in his room as the shadows lengthened, Mokuba struggled to hold in tears. He had to keep working. There was so much to study and practice. One could never do too much homework. Once the assigned problems were finished, there were others that he could do for more work.

"I will make my brother proud," he whispered to himself. "I deserve to suffer this little bit for what he suffered through for me. I don't care if it kills me first. I'm going to be just like him and a worthy vice-president of the company my brother worked hard to create. Maybe I can't do everything I loved like before, but I know I'll get used to it. One day, Seto won't be disappointed in me."

That was what Mokuba solemnly vowed. Then, forcing his brain back on task, he began to reread the new section in math.


	2. Part 2

The Perfect Role Model? Part 2

He could not believe Mokuba had not wanted to play chess with him. Now, more than ever before, Seto was worried.

"Maybe my brother is changing, but I am not sure it is a good thing. He seems to be becoming more like me. One of me is already more than enough."

Pondering deeply, the CEO stared at the chessboard sitting ready with all the pieces. Should he let Mokuba go through this phase? Or would he rather bring his younger brother back to the boy's self as well as he could?

Seeing the chessboard without his brother across from him made the young man resolute. Mokuba would get a talking to that he, Seto, had never gotten. Now, was the first time the CEO wished someone had taken a daring step and tried to make him see the truth.

&&&

Seto opened the door to his brother's room, waiting to be noticed or even acknowledged. It took some time before Mokuba dragged his red-rimmed eyes over to his brother's stern form.

"What do you need?" he asked wearily, taking a moment to try to rub the blurriness out of one eye.

"I need you to stop working so hard."

Mokuba just blinked for a moment, his brain so exhausted it took time for it to translate what Seto said.

In a helpless voice, Mokuba replied, "Seto, I'm trying to do what I should be doing." With that, the boy turned to begin studying once more.

He had not even heard the steps, but there was suddenly a cool hand on his forehead. Seto shook his head. "You've worked yourself into sickness. I want you to go to bed and stop working so much. You won't go to school tomorrow."

A small bubble of panic pressed to get free from within his chest. "But, Seto, I have to go! I'm just fine. I—"

His brother cut him off, "No, you're not fine, Mokuba. I should have done something about this sooner, but I thought it was just a stage you were going through."

Turning his dismayed eyes to the floor, Mokuba whispered, "I don't work as much as you do."

There was a tense silence in the room. Trying to keep his voice calm, Seto replied, "You shouldn't work as much as I do. I have a career and am older. You're still just learning the basics, Mokuba."

The boy's voice was still saddened. "I know, Seto. That's why I need to work hard now. I need to catch up to what you and the other 'slackers' know. Even if what I am learning doesn't seem hard to you or important, it is to me, so just let me do it. It is not as if you ever cared to check if I was doing my homework before, yet now that I am genuinely trying, you're not pleased." He hung his head, staring at the wooden floor by his feet. His mind was still foggy and dizzy, and Mokuba found it difficult to concentrate on anything. That was why he missed his brother's reaction.

Seto said nothing, and for a split second, his face appeared as it would have had Mokuba spit at him. But then, the CEO's face was back to its usual cold expression. At least, that was the usual expression when he was dealing with anyone besides his brother.

When Mokuba raised his head and turned to begin working anew on his assignments, he was quite startled by the slamming of his textbook. He followed the long-fingered hand up the arm to the angered face of his brother.

"You're not studying anymore, and that's the end of the story, Mokuba." Then, without even asking permission, he grabbed all of Mokuba's textbooks and notebooks and took them away with him as he left the room.

Mokuba stared agape after his brother, feeling betrayed and confused.

'What did I say?' Mokuba thought, truly feeling so disoriented that he could not recall his exact words. 'I just wanted to make my brother happy. If only I could be more like him and make him know that I am sorry for Gozaburo put him through, then maybe he'll be proud of me. But how can I do that without studying my work and becoming a good vice-president of Kaiba Corp?' Putting his head into his arms, Mokuba did not try to stop the warm tears flowing down his flushed cheeks. Nothing ever went right.

&&&

Back in his study, Kaiba flipped through Mokuba's work, seeing the written assignments on the pages and how many extra problems his brother had done. Why had he suddenly wanted to work so hard? It made no sense, though his words had.

_Had_ Seto ever cared about Mokuba schoolwork before? To be truthful, the young man took it for granted that his brother would do his work and do it well enough. No one ever had complaints about Mokuba. And, while it had always left a little uneasy feeling in his mind, Seto never praised Mokuba for good work. It was too difficult to get over the initial discomfort. There were hardly any memories to draw back on. Gozaburo definitely had not praised him for anything. It was always criticism for mistakes and abuse. For anything right; it was avoidance to mention it. So, Seto had no experience with giving praise.

Now, it seemed, he had to try to change. Or else, Mokuba would remain changed.

But how could he do it? Already, Mokuba was not pleased with him. Whatever he did next would probably just further anger the boy. Seto decided to wait at least one night before attempting to talk to his brother once more. With a sigh, he put the chessboard away and got out a book to read.

&&&

"What am I going to do?" Mokuba stared in dismay at his empty backpack. "I have tests tomorrow and homework due!"

Slowly, the trepidation and anxiety turned to something else within Mokuba. All he could see were his brother's arms grabbing away his books and taking them away. It wasn't right! After all this time of not caring about his schoolwork, Seto went and took his books away at a time it was really important and mattered!

'I can't believe Seto! How dare he do this to me? Maybe he got worried that I was getting too intelligent. Maybe he doesn't want me as a rival!' Mokuba thought angrily to himself, for it was anger he was feeling. It boiled up from his toes and sprang upward to the tips of his hair, creating a feeling of coursing heat trying to break free from the skin. Never in all his life had the boy been so upset.

The new heat just made his fever rage higher, but Mokuba did not care about his health just then. As long as his dizziness was not bad enough to make him lose his balance, it did not matter.

He marched straight over to his brother's room. However, that was absent with no lingering junior high textbooks. So, Mokuba went on to the workroom.

'If my brother is working after he told me not to…' Even Mokuba could not finish the threat raging in his mind. The door to the workroom was immediately before him, but as he placed his palm on the door, his glance strayed down and he saw his card necklace. Inside was his brother's last real smile.

So abruptly, the anger dissipated to nothing.

"Oh, Seto," he whispered, sinking to the ground. "Why can't I make you happy? Nothing I do pleases you. I thought-I thought becoming like you would make you see how much I want you to be happy. But you still didn't understand."

Mokuba's conversation continued in his mind, 'Is there anything so flattering as wanting to be just like someone? I just wanted you to see what you meant to me and that by doing so I could mean something to you, too. Yet, I guess what I want is something only the old Seto would do. Now that you're a Kaiba, you can't help but care only for work. And that work can only be your own. I'm sorry, nii-sama.'

Mokuba slowly got up from the floor, looked at the closed door for a long time, and then turned. Like a prisoner on death row, the boy returned to his room for the night.

&&&

He had thought it would be easier to weather, this acknowledgement of his brother never being pleased with him. Mokuba had been living with it for such a long time it was more of a background condition than anything else. Yet, now that the boy had forsaken any hope of changing his brother, he could see no reason in being happy with anything he did.

"I'll be mature for Seto. I won't mope and drag my feet from room to room. But,"—and here he sighed—"I can't see much reason for trying in anything anymore. Why did I ever want to do well in school, even before I became obsessed with it? It was to make my brother proud of me. And now that I can't even begin to pay him back for his punishment of learning from Gozaburo by learning all I can, I don't know what I can do."

Morning had come at last as it does to every tortuous night, though phantoms of the mind would deem it impossible. The trickle of sunlight pooling on his floor had a glimmer of warmth and happiness to it, but Mokuba saw it only as something far away that he could not reach.

Ever so slowly, the boy pulled on his school outfit, glancing once at his backpack when he was finished. Would he even need it if he could not do work?

Stepping across the carpeted hall and to the kitchen, Mokuba had no expression on his face. The grey-purple orbs were large and empty as a saucer filled with liquid only. There was no warmth or emotion resting in them this morning. Neutrally, coolly, they observed things, but again, it was from a great distance. Coming to the reality was a boundary Mokuba did not feel up to crossing.

His brother was eating a piece of toast in the kitchen, and he glanced up as Mokuba quietly padded in. Seto pushed the full fruit bowl at his young sibling, watching him as he chose an apple and began nibbling it.

A gusto sigh came from the elder Kaiba.

"You can have your books back; they're sitting on the table in the living room." Seto was silently watching his brother, but the boy made no change, no reaction. He sighed once more. Trying to breach the subject was obviously not going to be made any easier by Mokuba. "I want to talk to you about your schoolwork, Mokuba."

His deep eyes peered up at Seto, large depths reflecting Seto's unease. Then, the boy blinked, shattering the reflective surface for long enough that his brother could glance away and get free.

"It's all right, Seto," he responded quietly, focusing on his tart apple. "I won't work so hard again."

That amused Kaiba immensely, that one could just decide to stop trying. However, it was not right to crack a small grin at such a somber boy. Finally, because it had been growing on his mind, Seto brought up another subject hesitantly.

"I thought I said you weren't going to school today. Why are you in your school clothes?"

The bite Mokuba had been taking stopped for the merest of moments before continuing. "I forgot. I'm sorry."

Where was the boy from last night who had been lashing back at Seto for anything he said? What had happened to his brother to turn him into this mindless puppet using his tongue merely because it recalled how to talk? Seto would have rather had an upset, _alive_ Mokuba than this quiet, subdued child giving in to every statement.

"Are you feeling all right?"

How could Kaiba know what went on his brother's mind? How could he guess that everything he said about Mokuba was changed to fit the problem growing in the boy's mind? How could he see that Mokuba took everything and saw it as another failure to please his brother, to make him at all proud or fond of him? He could not. So, the cycle continued.

Seto was going to put his hand to Mokuba's forehead, but the boy ducked out of his chair, taking his apple core to the garbage. "I'm fine, Seto. Have a nice day at school and work."

It infuriated him. Mokuba, he wanted to cry, why don't you show a thread of life in your eyes? Why don't you fight back and tell me why you do what you do? But Mokuba's eyes held no answer, and already the boy had walked away.

&&&

Obedience. Was it not all what Seto wanted? It made sense to Mokuba. After all, Gozaburo had drilled into him that obedience to rules was to be expected. So, it followed that Kaiba expected the same of his younger brother. There was no reason for Seto to be upset in Mokuba's mind.

'Maybe, after all, this will be what makes my brother pleased.' As soon as he thought that, Mokuba squeezed shut his eyes and told him, 'No! We aren't trying to do that anymore. I am just going to do as nii-sama says and remain unfeeling about it. Most likely, I'll just be disappointed again otherwise.'

The books had remained downstairs on the table. He needed them not. Faintly, for the distance between them was large, Mokuba heard Seto calling him in as sick at school.

What would he do all day? For the first time in what felt like ages, Mokuba spied his violin case and reading books, not to mention his drawing pencils. Now, he was free to do all of that. But, the boy did not want to. Maybe catching up on his sleep was the best route to choose. First, though, he had to see his brother off or Seto would get worried.

At the time Kaiba always left, Mokuba went back downstairs. There was a slight awkwardness between them, and Mokuba did not try to ease the air.

"Goodbye, Seto. When are you planning to be back?" He asked this question because he had always asked it. Now, the very tone of it seemed fake.

"Right after school. I'm not going to the office today." He hesitated, as if it were difficult to ask, "Do you want to play a game later?"

About to shrug, Mokuba stopped himself in time. That would really upset his brother. "Sure." But then, that tone and word would not please him anymore. No matter how he struggled to avoid it, the concept kept returning to him and showing him every time he failed…

Another silence. "All right. Bye, then." With a click that marked finality, Seto Kaiba vanished through the front door after casting back a worried look at his brother.

'Great, I worried him again. Can I do anything right?'

Apparently not, for after he had cleaned up the house and made an after-school lunch for the two of them, Seto appeared worried once more. But what else was a bored, uninspired boy supposed to do with all his time?

"You didn't have to go through all the trouble, Mokuba."

"It wasn't trouble." A small building up of what felt like sickness traveled up his insides. With a start, Mokuba realized it was his hopeful anxiety once more. Could Seto be pleased with what he had done?

"We have maids, you know. And cooks. Why waste your time?"

Now, he really did feel sick. Nodding slowly, Mokuba gave no verbal answer. Why had he wasted his time indeed?

It was odd, but as Mokuba climbed the stairs back to his room, wondering what he would do for the rest of the evening, the tears that had been struggling and fighting to hold in previously were gone. Just vanished. It was like a deep void within him had sucked up all his emotion and took away anything that could make emotion as well. Dry emptiness was all that remained to him.

&&&

His brother was readying the game in the bedroom since Seto's homework was already done; it was always done before he left school. Even if he would have had some, the young man would have done it in other classes in order to finish it. What infuriated his teachers about it was that the CEO still managed to answer all of their questions right while doing the other homework.

Yes, Seto Kaiba always managed to amuse and please himself. Maybe that should be what Mokuba tried to do. After all, attempting to make his brother proud of him never worked. Maybe it would be best to please himself with his own work.

The boy's heart fell and shattered into many pieces. He could never give up wanting Seto's approval. So now, Mokuba vowed to never give up searching for his pride, for his praise. But, he would never let his brother know about it, instead remaining the way he was now. No arguing with his brother, no working too hard, and no worrying Seto. His brother would never even know anything was going on. And Mokuba would still have his hopes, though he tried to stifle them, that one day, perhaps, Seto would be pleased with the boy for what Mokuba could do.

&&&

In a nearby room, Seto set up the board for capsule monster chess, readying his brother's little figurines for them to choose from. He thought after his time at school that Mokuba seemed back to normal. There was nothing wrong with not wanting to argue or talk a lot. Maybe his interpretation of Mokuba's character had been wrong all along. Enthusiasm was something that wore off in time, anyway. Did it matter if Mokuba had lost it now or in a few years?

In fact, it appeared he would not have to do anything for his brother or ask him any difficult questions. The boy was back to normal.

&&&

"Mokuba, are you ready to play a game with me?" Seto asked after changing clothes.

The boy glanced up from where he had been gazing at the bookshelf lined with countless titles he would never read. "I guess so, yeah."

Though he hesitated greatly and felt odd asking, the elder Kaiba could not resist asking just once, to be sure, "Is everything all right, Mokuba?"

It was either a quick lie or a time-consuming truth of so much sorrow in it he could not add it to his brother's difficult life. Seto had hidden the truth for him for many years about just how bad Gozaburo was, and now, Mokuba could finally return the favor.

What right did he have to complain? He had plenty of good things in his life. Did it matter if one, even if it was the most important one, was absent?

All his thinking had taken place in a matter of a few split-seconds. His brother had no reason to think he was lying.

"Yes, Seto, everything's fine."

&&&

The (or, at least, what should have been) End


	3. Part 2 and onehalf

Part 3 'The Alternative Ending'

It had been a few days since Mokuba had claimed everything was fine. His words had made his elder brother not question his habits any longer, or at least not verbally. Mokuba had gone back to school, and if Seto did make certain homework was not taking up the majority of his life, the young CEO no longer commented on Mokuba's habits. Everything appeared to be back as it was previously.

Well, almost.

Still, maybe because he felt guilty or that he held true the belief his brother had said (and even though Seto never said it directly, Mokuba could guess how he felt about it from his actions and attitude), but Mokuba did not do anything with art or even practice his violin. It was a waste of time. So, what did he do in all his spare time that used to be filled with extra studying? Mokuba struggled to do anything that would make his brother pleased, but that was an experiment every day. So, from what worked or did not, Mokuba planned the rest of his time.

Cleaning was obviously something Kaiba did not care to see his younger sibling doing, and Mokuba did not try that again. Instead, he started doing other chores like cooking or laundry just to see whether or not it would make his brother happy. Unfortunately, Seto did not comment on what Mokuba did anymore.

'Maybe my brother is really so bored he wants to do housework. So, I'll let him. It is better than other habits he could be getting into at his age.'

So thinking, Seto walked through the door each day after work at Kaiba Corporation to the delicious smell of tested recipes. Whatever he smelled was always tantalizing to the tongue and even made the workaholic want to eat. Yet, unknown to him were all the previous recipes Mokuba struggled to make during the day and had decided were not good enough. The kitchen was always clean by the time Seto came home and the food decided good enough on the table, so Seto had no reason to believe all the work Mokuba was doing in the kitchen. The extra food that was not good enough was secreted out the back door of the kitchen to various workers of the mansion to eat.

Thus far, Seto ate what his brother made with little comment. Once, however, to the furious beating of his brother's heart, he surprisingly acknowledged the taste of the food. While if he had had a pop quiz the next day on what actually spewed forth from his mouth unbidden but for his amazement, he would have failed it, but Mokuba recalled every syllable and nuance of tone because it meant so much for him.

"Hmm, Mokuba," Kaiba had said, "I never knew you could cook anything, much less something so intricate. I can guess what you have been doing in your free time."

And, just like that, a real smile adorned the boy's face. All the other failed attempts at the same recipe were well worth it for those meager words of his older brother. For the rest of the evening, nothing, not even his brother's absence could bring back down his excited emotions. If only things could always be this way.

But, the 'if only' phrase was something even a little whisper of wind could blow away to leave only a trail of weeping regret within the heart and mind. The memories would remain, but choices could not be remade.

&&&

There were a few students at school that could almost be considered casual friends. Sure, they asked the regular questions and glazed their eyes to the answers, but at least the questions were asked. Besides, what kinds of questions were "How are you?" or "What's going on?" anyway? They had become societal prerequisites to a conversation, so no matter what a person had to get through them before starting anything else or be deemed rude.

That was like what life was like for Mokuba everyday now. Any conversation with his brother was on a basis of purely superficial comments and answers. Not all of them were the truth, as many replies of "I'm good, I'm fine" are lies. Sometimes, merely to avoid needless explanations little white lies had to be spit out. That was the key to the boy's life.

"How was school?" became the same as "How are you?" to Mokuba. What was the immediate reply? The same as many teenagers or pre-teenagers entering a moody stage. The answer that compounded so much meaning in the one line. "Fine." The I'm-not-pleased-you're-asking-me-and-I-have-to-seem-cool-but-sometimes-I-wish-someone-would-really-mean-the-question-or-pry-further-and-force-out-the-truth reply. Mokuba's answer was always left as it was.

Perhaps Kaiba could not have been blamed completely. After all, he was still in his teenage years as well. Yet, he was trying to raise his younger brother, run a company, and keep a good name all at the same time, showing how difficult being a parent figure is when too young.

Mokuba's so-called friends at school would ask the reciprocal of his older brother's question to the same reply. Nothing very important ever came out in the response. What was the use of bothering people who were not very close anyway? And, in his brother's case, what right did he have to complain about what was happening in his life?

Always, the images of those having a far worse life were before his life. He heard stories from other students about what they seemed to live through each day. Also, though he was not supposed to know, he knew about some of his brother's schoolmates. Jonouchi lived with an alcoholic parent, so Mokuba was well aware of how well-off he himself was.

'Besides, it is not as if anyone is abusing me purposely. Seto just doesn't know how much I wish he would spare a kind word or praise. And it is my own fault that I have not told him that I wanted it.' A rude, nasty undertone reminded him of when his brother had stormed into his room and taken away his books. Mokuba had come so close and had almost mentioned how much he desired some recognition in what he did. If Seto had not figured it out from that, he did not deserve to be told. But, always, the other voice would return and force the other one to be silent, for did he not know how difficult life was already for his brother? Mokuba had no desire to make it any harder.

That day, much like many before it, passed with schoolwork and cooking dinner. For once, Mokuba thought the meal tasted good enough before multiple attempts, and he found himself with extra time.

"What should I do?" he mused aloud to himself. "I wish had a puppy or something to walk. Then I would always have something to do." He sighed. The odds of him getting a pet, besides something kept in a cage, were zero.

So, with the food being kept warm on the stove, he looked around for anything in which to amuse himself and caught sight of an old text on the table. Someone, obviously his brother, had left it there. The cover was bland and of a solid color with a few computer graphics.

_On Success_ was the title, nothing special. However, his eyes froze a moment on the author and blurred. Then, refocusing, the boy stared at it a little longer. How could he have no idea this book existed? Here, then, was the key to everything. For once, he thanked his good luck to have spotted such a book.

There it was. A book written by Gozaburo Kaiba. This was something that would hold many answers to his confused mind. Now, he could see something that his brother most likely was forced to pore over for countless hours to please their foster father since Mokuba guessed no one else would want to read the horrid work.

'Once I study this, I will understand what Seto went through.' His thoughts were racing ahead in his eager anticipation. 'Then, I will be able to grow closer to him because we will finally understand each other! Maybe, he will even come to respect me for what I learn and be pleased by it! Then, because he will see that I can be like him if I want to be, Seto can relax a little and stop being so cold. Perhaps he'll actually compliment me on his own then! Seto _will_ be proud of me and be glad I am his brother!'

Mokuba could hardly wait to begin reading the four hundred sixty-three page text in order to become closer to his brother. In his mind, it could not fail.

&&&

The dinner was a little dry…all right, it was exceedingly crispy and had the tendency to taste like sawdust that had been storing in a workshop for several years in a corner littered with dust. For once, however, Mokuba was not crushed by the food since he now had a different plan in order to win his brother's admiration. In fact, it was because he had been so excited to start on his new plan that he had forgotten the food in the first place, so he had left it simmering on the stove too long without being stirred.

Kaiba made a face as he brought a forkful to his mouth. It was a very large forkful because all the noodles were crunchy and stuck together, making one big clump of hard noodles with dry tomato paste decorating the edges.

"New recipe?" he asked as he struggled to chew the mess.

Mokuba's head came up. "Huh?" The boy's eyes alighted on his brother's disgusted expression and ducked his own head. "Oh. No, I just left it on the stove too long."

"Heh." That was an understatement.

The two brothers ate in silence for a few moments, or at least tried to, but they failed in both aspects. Eating something so nasty took tremendous willpower, and it was getting harder to force the fork to the mouth each time. Also, because of how done the goulash was, every bite emitted loud cracks into the air like eating raw noodles. Obviously, noodles went through stages, starting out iron hard, turning softer until they were extremely gooey and then turning back into rock.

Finally, plate still half-full, Seto shoved it away and downed his full glass of milk. "All right. The maids can clean up tonight, I think. You've done more than enough in the kitchen." He attempted a rueful smile, but it was done only half-heartedly and Mokuba never glanced over. So, Seto just continued, "I have one question, Mokuba. Have you seen a book I left down here? It was one Gozaburo wrote that someone at work gave to me. Hmph. To think they actually thought I wanted it."

Blinking a couple times, Mokuba's eyes went wide and then turned back to their usual size. Maintaining a cheerful voice, which was not too difficult, Mokuba replied, "Nope. Sorry, but I didn't pay attention to anything down here. Maybe you left it at the office."

Staring at a spot at the table, remembering, Seto's eyes narrowed. "No, I know for a fact I brought it home. Maybe one of the maids moved it." Then, he stood and took his plate to the sink before going back up to his room.

'That was close,' Mokuba thought. 'But I need a lot more time before I get enough information from that book. Just reading the first few pages was an awful bore. Somehow, I'll get through it.' He took a moment to concentrate utterly on his next thought. 'I know I'll get through it because it is for Seto.'

&&&

So, now with days that held at least some meaning for a future goal, Mokuba stumbled through every other assignment at a running speed without caring for his grades overly much. Yes, he still wanted to do well in case it would please his brother or keep him from having reason to chastise him, but with the bigger goal looming before him, grades were a minor matter.

Gozaburo's book he brought to school to read in his free time. Also, there it was safe to read since Seto was not anywhere near to catch him with it. Even so, reading at home was mainly possible because his brother seldom came to his room, and when he did, he knocked.

'_All good workers know that to question a superior is unheard of. Such obedience is the well-oiled mechanics of the clockwork of bureaucracy. It is important to do a job and do it without questions. For, as everyone with any intelligence will admit, unless they are attempting to keep people out of places of power, it is automatic obedience that is the most sought-after skill. Indeed, obedience is a skill learned throughout life, though when young, it is learned best.'_

Mokuba glanced over that paragraph again, making certain everything was utterly clear to him. There was what he knew of Gozaburo set out on a little platter to show everyone. There was what Seto had to deal with when learning from Gozaburo's tutors. Maybe, Seto had learned the lessons so well he now only wanted obedience from Mokuba, as the boy had thought before. Still, there were another three hundred thirty-eight pages left.

They would have to wait, however, since the last bell of school had rung about a minute ago. He needed to pack up his bag and go home. There, after his homework, of course, Mokuba might sneak in a few more pages.

Oh, Mokuba had plenty of time to sneak in more pages. Seto had told him before that the maids could clean the house and cook, so he would let them. Instead, the extra time would be devoted to learning how to be a better brother to Seto Kaiba.

'_One of the barest essentials to becoming a worthy businessman is giving up any connections to anything besides the job. Work comes first and always first. The office is the home and bed of an employee. Family is something to be sacrificed for the greater good of success. Besides, if they are loyal enough, the family will still be there waiting for you as you work for success.'_

That was all that a family was good for to Gozaburo? For the first time, Mokuba felt sorry for the deceased man since he obviously never felt any bond to anyone. Or, rather, if he had, he had severed it as soon as possible in order to achieve his dream of ultimate riches. At least Mokuba still had Seto, even if his older brother seemed to be doing as Gozaburo wrote about.

With a jolt, the boy put down the book. It was true. Seto was becoming unattached. In fact, he had been detached for some time. Well, Mokuba still remembered how swiftly his brother had come to rescue him from Pegasus's dungeons, but that seemed like such a long time ago to his present predicament.

'Maybe,' Mokuba began thinking with a pang; then, his mind faltered. Still, he struggled to force his mind to think it and accept it. 'Maybe…maybe Seto does not want to ever seem appreciative of me because he does not _want_ to get attached. Maybe he is worried of what will happen when he is.'

In the book, Gozaburo painted terrible scenes of workers failing miserably because of their commitments to other people and causes other than work. Even if the rest of the work was a bore, the man did manage to get across the negatives of bonds in a truly delightful, colorful scene. To Gozaburo, nothing was more tragic than a determined worker failing to rise to the cause because of some other attachment. What if his brother believed that?

Slowly, ever so gradually, the words of Gozaburo managed to sink into Mokuba's heart and open his eyes to why Seto acted as he did. And, becoming more and more obvious, Mokuba knew that if he wanted to help his brother succeed and truly pay him back for all his hard work, Mokuba had to let Seto go.

&&&

It was not simple and easy. One cannot simply decide to say, "I no longer want to love you, so I won't." Anyone who had experienced the pains of infatuation or love can attest to that. And what kind of love was deeper than that which had been forged from the very beginning and strengthened from all the troubles in childhood? It should have been so easy to go on loving his brother. After all, now it was finally a time that the struggle seemed passed and they could live as they wished in ease. Yet, it was that very love that now troubled Mokuba to no end. If he loved his brother, the little cruel voice in his head whispered constantly, if you love him, you will let him do as he wishes and stay out of his way.

So, that was what Mokuba began doing. His dreams of being appreciated by Seto faded to an old picture placed in the back of a drawer where it would remain safe. Safe, but unreachable. No longer desired.

All that he did was a way to slowly detach himself. The games his brother occasionally asked him to play became fewer and gradually forgotten. If it pained Mokuba completely, what hurt worse was the first time he had refused. There, for a brief moment, a flash of confusion and even sadness had crossed Seto's features when Mokuba offered no excuse. Just a simple no was what he said. But, Seto was used to hiding disappointment from rivals and jumping back from setbacks.

As each time brought a negative answer, there was only one thing to do to halt the pain and losses. Therefore, the questions of whether Mokuba wished to do something with him came seldom.

'Mokuba's growing up,' Seto thought at first, 'he's going to be moody and detach from me. I am like a father figure to him, so of course he wants to get away from me. I just wish I had something left to me, something untainted by Gozaburo. Mokuba was the last, but now he is leaving…I just have to deal with it as all parents do.'

And so it seemed he did. Any pain was suffered alone in his room. Mokuba was never privy to it. Besides, the boy was certain he was taking the right action, finally, and would not have understood what Seto revealed on his face had the mask been removed.

"I'm becoming independent. No doubt Seto is pleased to have me out of his way, no longer bothering him needlessly." He nodded to himself in the mirror.

&&&

There was a problem in the Kaiba mansion. Yet, to the maids and people excluded from private thoughts, the problem was not so easy to see. Only if one could read the deep eyes that held such sadness within their depths could one come to a hint that there existed an issue at all. His eyes were blue and cold as the chill winters on the plains, but the ice only was out in order to hide everything else. The ice kept in the regret and sorrow that would otherwise leak out. Only through ice could the way be blocked to other such emotions. And so Kaiba remained cold and frosty to everyone, living his own life in the mansion. His brother lived his own life as well.

Now, the boy no longer saw Seto as a role model except in the barest sense of the word. What Mokuba did was done to help Seto reach something the young man never knew he wanted to reach if such commitments had to be left behind.

If there were times at night that Mokuba felt bereft of any hope or understanding, he whispered to himself as a mantra to keep himself going, "I'm doing it for Seto. I have to help my brother succeed."

So the philosophy of Gozaburo lived on in the hearts and minds of those who most desperately wanted to ignore him and forget he existed.

&&&

And each, for love of the other, remained distant and cool since it was so obvious that was what the other desired most of all.

&&&

The Absolute End


End file.
